


Dumbo, the flying sausage

by Tantaylor



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Dogs, I definitely like the owner of this dog, M/M, maybe I like this dog, wait
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantaylor/pseuds/Tantaylor
Summary: Nick doesn't like dogs, but he likes Roger. Very much so.And because that's the case, he looks after the ugliest dog the world has ever seen. For it`s  the dog of the man he secretly loves.
Relationships: Nick Rhodes/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Dumbo, the flying sausage

**Author's Note:**

> I met a dog today who inspired me to write this bit. I hope you like it.
> 
> English is not my mother -tongue, no beta
> 
> Please leave feedback
> 
> Thank you

Why did I let myself be talked into it?  
And why on earth did he ask me of all people?

I am not a dog person. 

But then, who else should he have asked?

John is in Los Angeles and Simon is sailing with his wife and children.  
Dominic, as sweet as he is, is still not a real friend.  
At least not for Roger.

Roger needs a long time before he really calls someone a friend.

Clyde looks at me with big eyes and wags this stubby thing that's supposed to be a tail.

God, that dog is ugly. And I mean really ugly.  
But Roger loves this critter, which looks like a moth-eaten old rug.

And I love Roger, so I take care of Clyde.  
Yes, I love the man, this quiet, friendly and incredibly hot looking man and that's why I said yes when he asked me if I could take Clyde for a few days.  
His mother had a Gall surgery and he`s in Birmingham to be with his parents.

I'm terribly worried.

Because I'm fond of her, his funny, resolute mother.

And I love him, did I mention that? 

Not that he knows. Nobody knows.

It started when he came back after all this time.  
So transformed.  
Still quiet, still reserved, but in a different way.  
No longer shy and fearful, but calm and composed.  
Plus that fine humour, the golden glow in his beautiful eyes when he laughs....

Golden glow? 

Oh man, I'm crazy, aren't I?  
Crazy about him. 

Damn, that lovely man in that incredibly sexy body!  
This is killing me.  
What if I just tell him?  
And what if he then laughs his head off?  
Clyde is still looking at me and wagging that ridiculous stubby tail.

“I really don't understand why he kept you.” I say.  
After all, that's Dayton's dog.  
Dayton. 

I nearly fell off my chair when Roger showed up with this guy at John's birthday party almost five years ago and announced that this was his boyfriend. His lover. 

I mean, seriously, how cruel can life be?

All this time I'm thinking my old friend Roger is straight as an arrow, and then he turns up with this ageing male model.  
The epitome of a British gentleman.  
Silver hair, slightly tanned. Great body for his age.  
Intelligent and educated, a doctor, almost 15 years older than Roger.

I wanted to hate him from the bottom of my heart, but I couldn't, because he was really nice. 

At least until last year when he decided to take a job as a ship's doctor on a cruise ship and just left Roger and the ugly dog overnight. 

Roger thinks the honourable doctor is now probably screwing his way through the crew and passengers, because in retrospect it came out that Dayton was not at all the gentleman he led us all to believe.  
However, he had left Roger without taking the mutt with him.

This mutt was now squatting on the carpet in front of me and looking at me expectantly.

I have no idea what to do with him now.

Well, dogs had to be walked once in a while. But we had just done that. He had already been fed. So why is he looking at me like that? Is he expecting an entertainment programme or what?  
“Listen, you ugly thing, I know Rog packed me a whole bag full of silly toys for you, but I'm certainly not going to throw any squeaky rubber animals around, you know? And I'm not playing tug-of-war with you with that disgusting, chewed-up, drool-soaked piece of rope either.”

"Woof" makes Clyde enthusiastically and wags his stubby tail so violently that I'm afraid it will fall off.

“You must have misunderstood something. I'm not gonna play with you, Clyde!”

“Woof, woof!” The stupid dog stomps on his ears excitedly. Just as his tail is much too short, his ears are much too big. He trips over them when he runs. I admit, it looks funny and it makes me laugh every time.  
Roger always gives me a punishing look for that.  
When he's there, of course.  
Unfortunately, he's not.  
I miss him. It's totally stupid, I know, because we just saw each other a few hours ago. When he brought the dog over.

Oh! Clyde probably misses him, too. 

But at least, unlike me, he can cuddle him all the time and jump up and lick him. If he were there, that is. Which he isn't. 

Great, cuddle and lick, that's it. Now the thought won't go away. I could even imagine jumping up on him. I would wrap my legs around his hips and he would hold me, because he is strong, and he would carry me into the bedroom and we ...  
"Damn it, Clyde, go and get your disgusting slobbery piece of rope.” 

How is one supposed to sleep like that?  
The dog scratches at the bedroom door, howling. It sounds like a very sad little child.

"Forget it, Clyde. You're not sleeping in my bed!" I shout.  
The mutt howls.  
"No! No way!"  
A full hour later, I open the door with a sigh.  
Clyde curls up at the foot of the bed, purring like a cat. Within seconds he is asleep.  
Somehow he looks quite cute, curled up into a little furry ball and with his little paws twitching in his sleep. He can use his huge ears as a blanket. How clever.

"Good morning, Nicholas. Is Clyde behaving?"

"You should have told me that stupid dog eats shoes! My most expensive ones! "

Roger clears his throat and I'm sure he's trying to hide a laugh.

"That's not funny at all, you know!" I snap at him.  
I liked those shoes, damn it!  
Now they're just two chewed up lumps. 

"I'm sorry, Nick. He hasn't done that since he was a puppy. I'll buy you some new ones."

"Doesn't matter." I relent. "How's your mum?"

"She's fine. It wasn't as complicated as it first seemed. She was very happy about your flowers and the card. Let me talk to Clyde.”

“Just in case you forgot, he's a dog. He can't talk to you.”

“But I with him. Just hold out the phone to him, will you?”  
The dog almost goes crazy with joy when he hears Roger's voice. He spins like a top and whimpers, then tries to lick the phone receiver.

I will have to have the whole flat professionally disinfected. 

"You sound so muffled, " says Roger as he has apparently decided to talk to me again.

"The phone is full of dog slobber; I'm holding it at arm's length.”

“Thank you for doing this for me, Nick. I know you don't like dogs very much. I'll make it up to you, okay? Dinner, a museum visit, whatever you want. And I'll get you a new pair of shoes, I promise.”  
“Do you really think I would expect anything in return? You're my friend, Rog, and friends help each other."  
Well, that's almost the truth, isn't it?  
I can hardly say I'm hopelessly in love with you and would do anything for you, right? 

“What if I would still like to invite you to dinner?”

“Oh, you mean a date? That would be great but I have to decline, a hairy monster chewed up my date shoes!”  
“Date shoes!” he snorts. “Only Nick Rhodes could come up with something like that! And you know what? I'm not going to buy you new ones, and you will never have dates again.”  
“Thank you very much, you two go ahead and ruin my love life! I mean, not that I have one...oh, is it normal for Clyde to run to the door and back, squealing in panic? "

"He needs to get out, Nick. I'll call back tonight!" Click, hung up. Argh!

"You stupid dog! Don't shit on my carpet! "I yell at poor Clyde.

Is it my imagination or did we just flirt?  
Did Roger actually ask me out?  
And did I ruin everything with my dumb jokes? Date shoes, what a bullshit.  
But then, he saying that he won`t buy me new ones, that I will never have dates again, does it mean he don`t want me to have dates? 

Oh, bollocks. I'm over 40, for fuck's sake. Why do I feel as confused right now as I did at 14 when  
Joseph Palmer , who sat next to me in chemistry, put his hand on my knee during class ?  
Chemistry, indeed.  
The chemistry between Joseph and me had been just right until Rachelle Williamson came into our class and Joe decided not to be gay after all.

I manage just in time to put Clyde on a leash and leave the building.

It's amazing what big poops such a small dog can produce.

I take the very pleased Clyde for a walk around the block. I have to think and my brain needs oxygen. 

The dog sits at my feet with its head tilted while I play the keyboards. It seems as if he is listening, as if he likes what he hears. 

"I composed it. For Roger." I tell him.

"Woof" goes Clyde and his stubby tail wags. 

"May I confide something in you?"

Clyde won't tell on me, after all. 

"I have quite a crush on your owner. As you might have guessed. Otherwise, I don't think I'd be composing romantic love songs for him. And frankly, you wouldn't be here if he wasn't so gorgeous. The fact is, Clyde, you ugliest of dogs, I want to impress Roger and I'm using you to do it.”

Clyde barks amiably and stomps on his grotesquely large ears.

"Why are you named Clyde? You should have been called Dumbo. It's hard to believe you're descended from wolves; you look more like a sausage. Dumbo, the flying sausage.”  
"Woof," the sausage with ears makes enthusiastically and looks at me so lovingly that I feel a little ashamed.

"You like me, do you? I insult you all the time and you still like me. That's really sweet of you. Friends?”

I hold out my hand to the dog and he puts his paw in it.  
Well, this dog really is charming. You have to give him credit for that. Ugly, but charming. 

I throw a few squeaky rubber animals around the living room. As an apology for the sausage.

Chasing rubber toys seems to be extraordinarily exhausting, because when Roger calls, Clyde is lying asleep on my lap and doesn't even open one eye as the phone rings. 

"Good evening, Roger, how is Jean?" I whisper.

"Did Clyde slobber on your phone again or why do you sound so far away?"

"He's asleep on my lap and I don't want to wake him."

“You two have it good together, yeah? No more chewed up shoes? “

“He's really sweet when you throw those rubber things around. But the squeaking is totally annoying. Don't they make these toys without sound?"

“It's only half as much fun without squeaking!

“For whom, for you or the sausage?”

“Are you calling my dog a sausage, Nick Rhodes?”

“Actually, I called him Dumbo, the flying sausage. But I apologised with two hours of play. Now Clyde is asleep and I have an earache, I think we're even. I have two questions. I already asked you the first one and you didn't answer. How is Jean?"

“Mum is doing great. She's giving the nurses a run for their money.”

“I can imagine that vividly!” I laugh. Even that doesn't wake Clyde up. “ Tell me, why is Clyde called Clyde? That's a really unusual name for a dog."

“The people from the shelter called him that. He has a sister. Want to guess?”

“Bonnie!”

“That's right! Was that your second question?”

“No. My second question would be, will you have dinner with me? And I mean a date, even if my shoes are chewed up."

Roger is silent. And he is until I think I must have got it all wrong and have just made a total idiot of myself. He didn't want a date. He just wanted to be nice. Because he's just nice. I'm not his type at all. He likes older men with silver hair, doesn't he? 

I'm about to open my mouth, to make it seem like just another joke, when he says quietly:  
"I'd love to have dinner with you, Nick.”

Of course, the dog chooses exactly this moment to wake up and immediately run to the door in panic.

Oh well. And I had just started to like him. In the middle of the night I am woken up not only by Clyde's hysterical barking, but also by an extremely penetrating doorbell.  
What bloody idiot rings my doorbell at three in the morning and gives the sausage with ears a heart attack?

I bump into a firm male chest as I yank open the front door. 

“What the hell?”  
Clyde follows suit. It's unbelievable that you can jump so high with such short legs.  
He licks Roger across the face, feverish with excitement.  
Roger. Roger is actually standing in front of my door.

That is, no, he already marches past me with the crazy dog in his arms and locks the poor animal in the bathroom without a word.

“Honestly, Nick, that's not how it works! You can't ask me out on a date and when I say yes just hang up!” he yells at me. 

“Woah! And you can't just barge in here in the middle of the night, scare your poor dog nearly to death and then yell at me. I had to hang up because Dumbo would have pooped in my living room otherwise. I think your ugly dog has a serious digestive problem. “

“His name is Clyde. And he is not ugly.”

“Well, they say that love is blind, but so blind?”

“That would at least explain why I still find you beautiful, even though you insult my dog and wear really silly undies!”  
That is true. I wear silly undies. Nothing but silly undies. Atlanta, John's daughter, gave them to me. Schroeder from the Peanuts is on it, at his piano.  
But I don't give a fuck about that at the moment. Roger said he thought I was beautiful. And Roger has just admitted that he loves me, hasn't he?  
We stare at each other endlessly while Dumbo...I mean, Clyde, has suddenly gone strangely quiet in the bathroom.  
Oh my God, what if he actually suffered a heart attack from all the excitement?  
I mean, I'm about to have one here because my heart is definitely beating way too fast.

We can certainly never have a relationship if the dog just breathes its last in the bathroom. 

"Clyde?" I call out.

"Woof woof."

All right, he's not dead. 

"Do you need a chaperone?" grins Roger.

"I just wanted to make sure he didn't have a heart attack. I'm about to have one, though. Because I think you're beautiful too. And gorgeous. And…”

“For someone called the Controller, you're pretty confused, Nick Rhodes.”  
Roger has dog drool on his face, but I kiss him anyway.

Well, from then on, Clyde was banned from my bedroom. From Roger's too. And later, when we moved in together, from the one we shared. 

For the record, I will say it once. Just once.  
I really like the ugliest dog in the world. And I don't laugh any more when he falls over his own ears.  
Well, at least I try.


End file.
